The Journey of a Slave
by Windariah
Summary: This is the story of Fenris, from the day Danarius left him on the docks of Seheron to the day he met Hawke.  Spoilers will certainly be included!  Angst/Violence/Drama, Rating may change as the story develops.
1. Chapter 1

Journey of an escaped slave

All characters are owned by Bioware, I simply borrow them for my interpretation.

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><p>Fenris has been in the camp nestled within the jungles of Seheron since his master had taken the last spot on a ship headed out of the harbor during the Qunari attack. It was the first time he had been separated from Danarius in the decade that he had served him. His primary responsibility to Danarius was protection. He was a fierce warrior, carrying a blade nearly as large as his small frame. In addition, he had special talents that ensured his masters safety. The ability to reach into a man, or woman's body and rip their heart out of their chest while it was still beating tends to make even the most battle hardened soldiers take pause.<p>

That was Fenris' job, protect Danarius, and Fenris was very good at his job. His eyes were constantly on the move, watching for danger, and anticipating the unexpected. His lithe, strong frame was lethal to any person who might have the heart to challenge him. He had yet to find someone that could best him.

The Qunari had attacked during the dead of the night, rolling over the city and destroying all that stood in their way. Danarius was only in Seheron checking on a lyrium trading concern he had there. It was supposed to just be a day or two in the city and the boat they had commissioned would return. However, only hours after their ship had pulled out, Fenris was awoken to the sounds of screaming and fighting as the Qunari terrorized the populace of the city. He snatched his sword up from next to him, where it was leaning against the wall. Standing quickly, he ran to the bed to awake his master.

Danarius quickly pulled a robe over his head while he evaluated the sounds of fighting. He knew they weren't to the little inn they were staying in yet, but it wouldn't be long until they were. If they didn't get to the harbor and on a ship now, they would be trapped.

Danarius was a very powerful mage, and had his pet wolf, Fenris, at his side, but he would never risk his life fighting if the stakes didn't involve his property. The lyrium smugglers here had not been doing well, and in a quick order, Danarius decided to cut his losses and leave the city.

And so, they walked, Danarius, followed behind by Fenris towards the harbor. Danarius had yet to find a threat he felt he needed to run to escape, and he didn't feel today would be the day to start. Besides, he knew that if any trouble were to get to them before the harbor, Fenris would deal with it.

Fenris kept his sword in his hands, ready to deal harsh punishment to any that challenged their passing. His eyes scanned the darkened corners of the buildings and doorways. He peered into the alleys, adrenaline surging through his taut body with anticipation of the fight to come. Other people had heard the sounds of fighting and had escaped into the street looking for the source. Twice, they had ventured too close to Danarius, and Fenris had stricken out with his sword each time without a word from Danarius. One quick pass of his blade and the offending person fell. The dead men were left in the street, without even a glance or second thought from either the mage, or the warrior.

Reaching the harbor, there was only one ship still at dock. Several ships stood out in the water burning. The flames sent sparks flying through the air, and Fenris could see several sailors, in the water, swimming towards shore, but they would find no refuge here. One Qunari ship had fire in the sails, and the deck was buzzing with activity as they attempted to extinguish the flames. Apparently one of the burning ships had managed to set the Qunari tactics against them, before they completely abandoned their ship. For the moment the Qunari were busy, and that was the only reason Danarius escaped that night.

They ran down the dock, Danarius calling to the captain of the vessel near the end of the dock. Fenris kept his mouth tightly shut, still surveying the scene for possible dangers. He knew it was not his place to speak unless he was specifically told to do so, and he also knew that to break this expectation would result in very harsh punishment before he could even explain why. His place was to keep his master safe, and that is what he would do.

The sailors threw a rope overboard, and Danarius had to jump into the water to grab ahold of it. Fenris saw him jump, and tensed, eyes scanning the water, waiting on him to resurface. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth, only once he saw his master safely about the vessel. He sheathed his sword on his back and prepared to jump into the water, but heard shouts coming from the ship. Danarius was nose to nose with the captain, screaming that they had to get Fenris. The captain was gesturing to the Qunari ship, fires now extinguished, heading towards them. Fenris knew if they had any chance of escaping they had to leave now. He watched as his entire masters frame seemed to droop, and then Danarius called to him, "My little wolf, stay safe, and hide. I will return for you."

Fenris panicked, screaming in rage, "No!"

"Please, my pet, run now. I will be back for you." Danarius said, then turned his back on Fenris, and moved below decks.

The little elf stood, heart pounding while panic flooded through his body. He was going to be separated from his master and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He watched in horror as his masters saving vessel pulled away. He had lost his charge, his job. With Danarius out of the reach of his protective arm he felt useless, and lost. Fenris had never been separated from Danarius in the entire time he had served him. The elf traveled everywhere with him, and Danarius had been so kind as to offer him a spot at the foot of his bed to sleep. Fenris had taken comfort in knowing he had a purpose to serve, and aimed to do so better than any had ever served before him, and in that, he had succeeded, until now.

Confusion overtook his brain, and he spun on the docks. "Where do I go, master? What do I do?" Fenris spoke aloud, with only himself to answer. He had never led, only followed, right on Danarius' heel. He didn't know where to go, or even what direction he should go in. He didn't understand what major blunder he had committed that resulted in Danarius leaving him. His mind fled through the events of the last few days, trying to find the moment he had let his master down, so that he could understand why he had been abandoned. He couldn't think of a single moment in which he had acted in any way other than the ways he had been taught were acceptable for him.

So, Fenris did as his master last requested of him, and he ran. He ran back down the still dark streets they had walked over shortly before. He ducked into darkened alleys, and jumped over anything that stood in his way. He heard the sounds of the fighting in the distance, but the sound was softer, so he knew he was headed away from the bulk of the battle. He ran until his breathing was labored, and his legs were screaming with fatigue, and then he ran some more. He lost track of time, but eventually the first light of the morning was shining behind him and he knew he had to find a place to hide, for to be found by the Qunari army during the day would mean a certain death.

He found an old barn, abandoned if he could judge by the dusty smell that invaded his nose when stepped inside. He shimmied quickly up the rotting ladder, nimbly avoiding the missing rungs, and let his eyes scan the empty loft for any kind of cover. He found none, however, he did find a window, the glass pane long gone. Balancing himself carefully, he was able to climb onto the flat, thatch roof. He carefully made his way to the center of the roof, which should be very difficult, if not impossible to see from the ground, and after checking that it was still sturdy, laid down. It would be hot, and it would make him itch uncontrollably, but for the moment he felt safe. It was there that he let his misery overtake him.

Fenris did not cry. It was unacceptable for a slave to cry and would result in very harsh, painful punishment. However, tearless sobs wracked his body and his entire frame shook violently, causing his teeth to smash together painfully. The sun was high overhead before the shaking subsided and Fenris fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

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><p>AN - I expect this to spawn 10 or more chapters, This is the story of Fenris, from the day Danarius left him on the docks of Seheron, to the day he met Hawke. I hope to show how his ideas of how life could be lived are changed through his ordeal.


	2. Chapter 2

Escaping the Qunari

All characters and environment are owned by Bioware, I simply borrow them for my interpretation.

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As most slaves are, Fenris is a light sleeper; however the emotional turmoil of the previous night wore him out. Fenris slept through the day, awakening to the twilight sky. He opened his eyes, and confusion set in. He didn't recognize where he was. He certainly was more uncomfortable then he was accustomed to after resting. His lips were chapped; his mouth dry and his throat ached with each swallow. The skin that was uncovered by his armor was a dark red color that added a strange burning sensation to the usual tingling feeling he felt as a result of his branded markings. He stretched and his skin felt tight, painfully so, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of his body while he slept. It wasn't long though before the memories of the previous night flooded back to him and the absence of his master still caused him great discomfort.

He sat up slowly, surveying the surrounding countryside. Smoke hung like a blue haze in the air, burning his eyes and nose. Unbidden tears welled up and blurred his vision, then spilled out of his eyes leaving a salty trail as they ran slowly down his dusty, sunburned face. He blinked his eyes, several times in rapid succession, and the picture he saw through his cleared vision struck panic through his heart.

The Qunari had nearly caught up to him, and judging by the burning and smoking buildings, and charred corpses he saw haphazardly scattered between the barn where he took refuge and the city he had escaped sprawling in the distance, they had destroyed everything that had laid in their path. A band of Qunari scouts, called Ashaad, were gathered near the entryway of the closest house. Looking more closely he also recognized Arvaarad, and his leashed Saarabas, a mage.

Fenris' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Saarabas, with a large collar around his necks, chained to a tunic beneath it, his lips sewn together so he could not speak. In Tevinter Magisters were nearly royalty and revered as such and Fenris had never seen a mage treated with such subjugation. If anyone were to attempt to collar a Tevinter mage in this fashion it would result in the aberrant perpetrator being captured, and his blood being used as fuel for the mage he attempted to control.

The very idea of wanting to control a mage seemed as foreign and fictional as the idea that with Danarius gone, Fenris could control his own actions. Everyone had their place with the natural order of society, and, in his experience, mages stood proudly at the apex of the peak, ruling the population and passing out judgments and punishments as they saw fit. They were the law and all others stood under them, with the sole purpose of serving the ruling magisters. He had heard Danarius speak with other Magisters about places within Thedas that locked their mages away with people assigned to keep them locked up and away from the general population for safety, but Fenris had never seen anything comparable to the treatment of the Qunari mage. He watched the mage closely, eyes running over him, almost willing him to attack his comrades.

Arvaarad made a small gesture towards the farmhouse and Saarabas reacted quickly. His hands began to move, lips quivering, but unable to open, a fireball forming in his fists. He brought his hands to his chests and with an effort as seemingly easy as flicking away an unwanted insect he sent the fireball flying through the open doorway of the farmhouse. The fire unleashed within the home exploded with a loud blast and spread quickly. It was only seconds later that flames could be seen flickering at the glass in the windows.

It was only when the Qunari band turned towards their next victim, the abandoned barn that Fenris was hiding on, did he realize his mistake. His preoccupation with the Qunari mage, and his curiosity at its treatment had distracted him. He had lingered too long and now in order to reach the window he had climbed through, he would have to dangle his body off the roof, directly in sight of the approaching Qunari band. He tried to remember if there other windows in the loft, but found it hard to focus. With the fire to their backs the Qunari frames with silhouetted and Fenris counted their numbers while considering his options. He knew if he stayed in his current location on the roof that he would certainly roast to death. Proof of the Qunari's quest for fire and destruction littered his vision. He counted eight Qunari, including Arvaarad and Saarabas. He had dealt with more and survived, but the Saarabas added an element to the fight that weakened his chances. He knew the type of power mages held and wasn't anxious to face one in battle, particularly alone. He would have to deal with the mage first, and the others would likely protect it fiercely. He decided to try to run instead of fight.

Knowing his time is short; he gets down on all fours, sword strapped to his back, and crawls as quickly as he can towards the backside of the barn. He is stiff from sleeping all day and his limbs are slow to follow his commands initially. As he begins to move through, he feels his joints lubricating and loosening up. His mind is running over all the different ways he might be able to lower himself to the ground from the top of a two story building. Jumping is an option, but he would prefer to find a way to climb down. His eyes light up with hope as he nears the edge and through the gloomy darkness he sees the leaves of a tree. His eyes have scanned the immature tree, finding what he feels is his best chance of a branch that won't break under the sudden addition of his weight. Once on the ground the barn will be between him and the Qunari and he should be able to slip through the dark night into the thick jungle-like forest just beyond the fields adjacent to the barn.

He feels it happen before his mind is able to process the information, and for just a moment he feels as if he is flying. The thatch under his hands is rotten and gives way under his weight. He scrambles to find a handhold, or to shift his weight back to his hips where the roof seems to be stronger, but he was too late. Fenris tumbled head first through the newly made hole in the roof, into the darker then night blackness of the loft.

He tumbles through the dark, twisting his body in a futile attempt to protect himself. He hits the wooden floor on his side and the thud of his body slamming into the wood reverberated through the empty space. He howled as a sharp pain in his left shoulder briefly causes his head to swim. The Qunari outside screamed a cry of battle in response to the banging and shouting they heard within the barn and race to the entryway.

Fenris sat up too quickly and gasped loudly in the dark. His left shoulder was sore and when he tried to raise his arm, it refused to follow his commands, remaining at his side, hanging limply. A sharp pain shoots through his torso and he is certain he had broken several ribs. He could already feel a knot forming over his left eye as well. He cursed softly in Arcanum, trying to drag himself to his feet using only the right side of his body.

The Qunari outside had slowed right outside the door. They were unable to see through the inky darkness of the barn and fearing a trap. It was impenetrable to their human eyesight, and they waited restlessly while the Saarabas cast a spell. A light as bright as the sun appeared, hovering near Saarabas and with a flick of his wrist it entered the barn, lighting the way for the Qunari.

Fenris' head was spinning as he dragged himself to his feet, searching once again for an exit to escape the Qunari. He tried not to let hopelessness settle in, but it did. He was injured, and he wasn't sure the full extent of those injuries. With his left arm unable to be used he couldn't wield the over sized sword he carried. That in itself was a significant blow to his chances of surviving. When he takes into account his broken ribs he realizes quickly that fighting is simply not an option, he would be lucky to take down one enemy before they felled him. His eyes are wide with panic, blood pumping quickly with his heart beating so fast. He breathed shallowly, but each breath still made his side scream in agony.

He could hear the Qunari in the barn now, and light spilled through all of the cracks and holes in the floor of the loft, casting wicked shadows on the walls around him. It was then that he heard the soft rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. He had forgotten all about the tree at the back of the barn, and for the moment luck was with him because it stood directly outside the second window in the room, directly in front of him. As the Qunari's heavy footfalls found their way to the ladder Fenris took a deep breath, wincing sharply, bent his knees and lunged out the window head first. His eyes were scanning over the tree in flight and his right hand reached out, almost instinctively and grabbed the first branch he came to. His eyes watered as his left shoulder screamed a song of pain, with his right arm stretched over his head, desperately trying to hold its grip. The tree shuddered at the sudden addition of the elf's weight, leaves quaking and convulsing in protest. Initially he thought he was falling, but quickly realized that the tree was bending under his weight, as if it wasn't up to the job of supporting him. He looked down; finding the ground only a few feet under his feet and without thought released his death grip on the branch. The tree immediately snapped back up, free of the extra weight it didn't have the strength to support. When his feet hit the ground the shock traveled through his body, reigniting his shoulder with pain he had never felt and once again his eyes swam with tears, now spilling over. He heard himself sob aloud and it sounded like he was screaming in his ears.

He heard Ashaad shouting at his companions, but Fenris' mind couldn't comprehend what he said. He knew he had been spotted and that his escape, however unlikely, was going to depend on how fast he could move across the field and into the woods. He started to run, each jarring step sending another jolt of pain sharply through his shoulder and down his back. His ribs sang their own song of tragedy, but it was a dull pain compared to his shoulder. The field was overgrown and twice he came in danger of tripping as the grasses tangled around his bare feet, but each time he caught his balance and pushed himself on.

He was almost to the jungles entry way, just a few seconds away, and he pushed himself harder, heart pounding and breathing labored. He felt weakness overtaking him. It was getting harder to breathe and the pain in his shoulder and side were making the world tilt and spin.

And then it happened. Behind him appeared a bright light and he could feel the air around him being drawn towards it, as if it were a vacuum and sucking up all within its path. A loud keening noise invaded his eyes, stunning him briefly. He willed his feet forward but found he no longer had the energy to lift his foot off the ground. He grunted, gritting his teeth, trying to escape the spell Saarabas had cast behind him. He felt his feet sliding backwards on the dew covered grass of the night, towards the blinding light behind him and he dug his toes into the soft ground in a futile attempt to hold his ground. He managed to get his right foot off the ground and started to step forward when the light disappeared, seeming to have exploded out in all directions. A massive force of air hit Fenris in the back and sent him tumbling into the tree line. He smacked into a tree, fell hard to the ground on his left side and this time he heard the snap of bones. His entire body screamed in pain and the sound that came from his mouth was one that would strike terror into any that heard it. He wondered why someone was screaming so loudly in his ear before he realized it was his song of pain. He welcomed the darkness when it came for him, as it implied the end of the pain. All his pain, the pain of being abandoned, of failing to stay safe, of failing his duty to run, and least of all, the pain his body was experiencing. Fenris drifted into the black, embracing its cold touch. The Qunari roared in triumph as they raced towards him.


	3. Chapter 3

As always, all characters belong to Bioware, I just borrow them for my interpretation.

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><p>Voices drifted through the black, wrapping their soft tendrils through his head.<p>

"His leg is broken, and his shoulder is dislocated," says a soft feminine voice.

He feels the magic gathering around him and he struggles, eyes still closed, to escape the pain he knows is coming. Fenris associates the touch of magic with torturous pain. He remembers well the punishments inflicted on him, in their attempts to mold him into the perfect slave, the perfect bodyguard. He remembers the electricity that Hadrianna would send surging through his markings, followed immediately by icy cold that burned worse than fire.

He flinches as he feels the magic gather around him, beginning to merge with the lyrium in the markings running over his body. He gasps in a deep breath in anticipation, but releases it slowly as the warmth of the healing magic encompasses him, relaxing him. This was a magic that he had never had cast on him before, and he found its pleasing effect strange, as well as a bit unsettling. Something warm and non-magical ran over his leg, and he tried to jerk away, but found he didn't have the energy.

"Let him sleep Amalene." He hears again, whispering through his head. "I have done all I can. He must sleep and finish …." The black overtakes him before the speaker finishes her thought.

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><p>A day later<p>

Fenris could hear the soft rustling of fabric; before he felt something light settle over him. A light breeze ran over the length of his body, but disappeared just as quickly. Whispers invaded his ears, so quiet he couldn't make out the words. The soft clink of chainmail rattling nearby, leaves stirring in the breeze, soft footfalls, all of these sounds surrounded him. His eyes fluttered a few times, and finally opened, staring at the ceiling of a small tent. He could make out the shadows of nearby trees on the canvas, and watched the shadows dance together for a moment.

"Slowly now." He heard the soft female voice say. "Your injuries were severe, but you are recovering nicely, just take it slow."

He swallows hard, finding his throat and mouth dry. He turns his head and finds a human woman standing over him, her brown hair, bleached to a lighter color by the sun, is pulled back showing her round face. She smiles at him, and her deep brown eyes meet his. "We were worried about you. The Qunari have…" , but at the mention of the Qunari Fenris burst straight up, aches and pains exploding in different parts of his body. She reaches out with a hand, and places it on his shoulder before continuing, "They are gone. You have nothing to be afraid of. I have healed you of many of your injuries, but you need to rest to recover your strength." He flinches at her touch, but she ignores it and gently pushes him back on the makeshift bed of leaves and fur he was lying on.

"Take slow sips," she advises him, handing him a small clay goblet, filled with water. He takes the cup gratefully, taking several small sips. She reaches out expectantly, removing the goblet from his hand long before he was done.

"If you drink too fast you will be sick." She says, in a voice that would be used to explain to a small child why they wouldn't be able to play in the fire. "My name is Asama. What is yours handsome?"

Fenris stares at her blankly, wondering who she is talking to. No one has ever referred to him as handsome before, and he certainly doesn't believe they will now. Intimidating, different, rough, and deadly: these are words used to describe the small elf with the white brands running over his body. She chuckles softly at his obvious confusion, while his eyes turn their gaze down. "I won't bite you." She laughs at him, a quiet but lively laugh.

His stomach churns, as much from the idea of this little woman owning him now as from the water he drank. "You saved me." He states, little more than a whisper. "Are you my master now?" He keeps his eyes averted from hers.

Her eyes widen slightly as she exclaims, "Master? Maker! No, dear." Her voice rising slightly as she finished. "We found you at the edge of the jungle. The Qunari were going to roast you, I'm afraid. The boys took care of them though, and brought you back here to me. "She thinks to herself a second, watching Fenris carefully and taking note that he hasn't moved. "Look at me handsome." She says, not as a command but a soft request. His eyes rise, meeting her for the second time and she says, "We don't keep slaves love. Whoever your master was is long gone. You are now a free man."

The words echoed in Fenris' head. "Free." "Master long gone" his stomach churns, knots tightly, and then the bile and little water he had drank explodes out of him. He turns on his side, managing to mostly miss her feet as he releases the little contents of his belly. 'Lost, alone' he thinks to himself. 'Abandoned, alone'. Fenris is too preoccupied with his thoughts to consider retribution for vomiting on the feet of the healer that looks at him so strangely, almost with a fondness.

She interrupts his thoughts, handing him a wet rag. "Put this on your head and no more water for a while." She commands. "I will get this cleaned up real quick. Don't move!" She spins and heads out of the tent in search of things Fenris doesn't know. Fenris places the wet rag over his sweaty forehead, brushing his white hair back, and tries to clear his thoughts. He thinks of Danarius last words, and his stomach tightens again. He swallows hard, and pushes his thoughts of Danarius away. He closes his eyes, and when she returns to clean up the mess the little elf left for her, she hears his soft snoring. The black had overtaken him again.

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><p>The next time Fenris awoke the sun had set. Someone had lit a candle on the small table that was in his makeshift clinic, the flame flickering lightly in the slight breeze. He slowly turned his head, his eyes running over the bare insides of the tent. His armor lay, piled neatly, in the corner. On the table, next to the candle, was the clay goblet that he remembered drinking from earlier. Next to that sat a large pitcher, and the rag he recalled setting on his head. For the moment however, he was alone.<p>

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself to a sitting position. He stretched experimentally, and found that while sore, he could move without much trouble. He felt sticky and hot though, and he longed for a bath. He reached across the tent and captured the clay goblet in his hand. The water sloshed out of the cup as he brought it to his mouth, and he was surprised to realize that his hands were shaking. He took several small sips, but succeeded more in dropping the lukewarm water all over himself. The water helped to slightly ease the soreness in his throat, and he was pleased when his stomach didn't complain. He set the goblet back down and reached for his armor. He quickly pulled on the lighter layer of his tunic and leggings, leaving the heavier armor lying on the bed. His eyes were searching the corners of the tent for his familiar sword when he heard soft footfalls coming closer.

His eyes snapped up and he found the smiling face of Asama stepping into his tent. Her hair was pulled back as he remembered from earlier, and she was carrying a small bowl of something that was steaming, the vapors curling into the air before disappearing.

"Going somewhere?" she asks with a slight smirk on her face.

"I was…" he hesitates, "Where am I?" he asks. His face shows no emotion.

"In the jungle." She replies softly. The grin disappears from her face as she continues, "The Qunari razed the city. Some of the boys saw you running across the field and gave the Qunari merry hell when they tried to finish you off. They brought you here, to me. How ARE you feeling?" she asks, her eyes running over him in inspection.

He moved both his arms and legs again, "Fine." He replies, with no emotion. While he still feels stiff and weak, experience has shown him that for survival, he must press on.

She eyes him suspiciously. "Are you sure dear?" she reaches out to his left shoulder, and watches him flinch involuntarily. "I am sure that your shoulder is still sore, and that your leg is still weak."

"I'm ready to return to my duties." He states, his voice dry and scratchy.

She smiles at him with humor showing in her eyes, "You will settle in soon enough. You have no duties here, other than to get well, at least for now. Let's get you some substance in your stomach and see how you feel after that, shall we?"

She turns and walks out of the tent, and he follows her, hesitantly. He raises his eyes as they step through the tent flaps into the open air and his eyes widen in amazement at the campsite laid out before him. He finds himself on the edge of a large clearing, surrounded by harsh thick vegetation all around. A dozen or more tents lay scattered around the edges of the clearing, leaving the middle of the area open. Torches lit the darkness with eerie flames compared with the harsh green growth around them. The middle of the clearing seemed to be a common area, with benches and tables scattered about, people gathered, talking and eating. A large fire was burning in the center of the clearing, and a large pot sat over it.

She walked towards the fire, nodding to others as she walked past them. They eyed Fenris with mixed expressions of wonder and mistrust. Fenris kept his eyes down, following a step behind her obediently. He nearly ran into her when she stopped suddenly at the last group of benches and a table nearest the fire. He looked up briefly, seeing two humans sitting at the table, a man and a woman. The man's face was weathered and hard, his dark hair disheveled around his face. The woman was petite and youthful, her brown hair down around her shoulders. It took him a moment to realize they were both looking at him in expectation of something, but he wasn't sure what.

"I'm sorry." Fenris choked out, his eyes downcast. He was just meeting these people and was already disappointing them.

"This is Lindor, the leader of our little band of rebels." States Asama, nodding once at the man at the table. "And this dashing lady here is my sister Amalene."

Amalene smiled at her sister, some private joke between them lost on Fenris. "Our interesting elf friend here hasn't told me his name yet", says Asama, giving him a mock look of sternness. "He says he is feeling fine, but judging by the way he is moving I would say that shoulder and leg are still pretty stiff and sore. I was just going to get him some stew and see if he can eat."

Fenris looks down at his feet and manages to choke out, "Fenris" in a strangled voice.

Asama raises her eyebrows at him, a move he misses with his gaze firmly planted on the dirt under his feet. "Did you say something dear?" she asks, moving a bit closer to him.

He flinches involuntarily at her movement, but catches himself before he moves. "Fenris. That is my name." He says, his voice only slightly stronger.

Lindor speaks, his gruff voice taking Fenris by surprise, "Well Fenris, have a seat and let Asama get you some stew."

Fenris looks up in surprise. To sit with humans, as equals, this was something entirely new to him. Truth be known he would probably have declined had his left leg not been aching as bad as it was. He limped around the table, sitting as far away from both of them as he could, sighing softly when the weight came off his aching leg.

He stared at the wood as he waited for Asama to return and contemplated his situation. He was uncomfortable with the humans, with their smiles and seemingly friendly manners. Asama's laughing was more at home for him, as it felt as if she was mocking him, and that was something he could understand. He wasn't sure what he should be doing, or what was expected of him, so he sat, staring at the table while he waited. For now, all that really mattered, he was safe.


	4. Chapter 4

All characters belong to Bioware, I just borrow them for my interpretation.

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Fenris heard his name called loudly and was instantly awake and on his feet. Many years of being a servant had taught him that even sleeping slaves were expected to respond to their masters' call. While he had been in this Fog Warrior's camp for nearly three months, old habits die hard, and this particular habit was one he wasn't sure would ever change. He glanced around the tent, momentarily perplexed, before he remembered where he was. He took a deep breath and relaxed.

Giggling drifted through the tent flaps. The chilled air of early morning was thick with moisture in the jungles of Seharon. Fenris slipped into the lighter armor that Ghan had helped him to complete just the week before. The heavier armor he had worn while he was serving Danarius was simply too heavy and hot to wear in the jungle. Ghan, a light haired, gaunt faced warrior, was very experienced with leatherworking and had spent many days with Fenris getting his armor perfect for his lithe frame.

In fact, all of the fog warriors had helped Fenris in one way or another. Honn had spent time teaching him how to forage, and what was edible, as well as what would make him ill. Tiam had taught him the basics of tracking, although Fenris never really caught on well to that. He had also taught Fenris how to dress the various game in the jungle. Ebana and Eeme had spent a few hours teaching him the basics of cooking the forage the warriors brought back to camp. Men and women stood shoulder to shoulder here, jobs shared among them.

He still had a hard time looking into anyones face, his eyes always seeming to find their way to the ground. Tind was a nearly constant companion, quick to remind Fenris to look up, trying to erase the slave thought patterns of meekness. Tind would follow him around, trying to encourage him to ask questions about anything he didn't understand. It was several weeks before Fenris spoke without being spoken to first, but now it seemed natural to say hello, or ask how someone was doing. It has been several weeks since Danarius had even entered Fenris' thoughts.

"Fenris!" Lindor called, an edge to his voice Fenris had never heard before. He was nearly to the tent now, and Fenris stepped out to meet him. As he stepped out he saw two young girls playing leap frog, the source of the giggling he had heard earlier. He focused his attention back on the leader, Lindor, just as he stepped around the corner of his tent.

"I'm glad you are here." He stated quickly. Fenris decided he had heard that edge before, nearly a month before when Lindor discovered one of the camps children had been snagged by the qunari. Determination and stubbornness had dripped over each inquiry and command Lindor had issues. He never had any doubt that they would recover that child, and Fenris was certain that was why they did in fact find Drant, scared, but unharmed. Each qunari responsible had been dealt with swiftly and compassionately.

"Ryns spotted a magister wandering in the jungle nearby." Lindor told Fenris, his brow creased.

At the word magister Fenris' heart sped up a bit, he felt the lyrium awake in his veins for the briefest moment before he pushed it back asleep. He swallowed hard, "Do you think its…." He found himself unable to choke out the rest of the question.

Lindor just smiled softly at him and nodded his head. "Come on. Its best we get this done now." He turned and started walking back the direction he had come from.

Fenris followed obediently, confusion surging through him. '_Were they going to give him back to Danarius?' _ He wondered to himself. They had never discussed what would happen if Danarius returned for him. He never dreamed Danarius could have hunted him down here, so deep in the jungle camp. He dismissed the idea though. For the last few months the fog warriors had gone out of their way to prepare Fenris for this day, yet he hadn't known it at the time. For weeks Danarius had haunted Fenris' dreams. The desire to please his master was so deeply imbedded within him, that the lack of Danarius to serve caused him terrible nightmares. Slowly the old master had been purged from his thoughts. Over time Fenris had discovered he had thoughts, feelings, urges and desires that his life as a slave had left buried and untouched. However, over the short time he had been here he really hadn't learned how to deal with all the emotions that were no longer in check. Confusion often presented itself when he was left to deal with too many things at once.

And that was what hit him now. His duty was to serve his master, whom he had abandoned, and ran for his life. He had learned, or had started to learn a new life, with freedoms that were alien to him. _I must serve! _He would think, quickly followed by _Freedom for my own path, my own dreams._ Each thought seemed to awaken some primal fury within him a little more. Each step he took as if walking on eggshells, feet landing lightly and moving quickly. _Serve! Free! Serve! Free! Serve! Free! _The thoughts passed through his head in disjointed harmony; two thingsthat cannot exist as one. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for something, but when he tried to explain to himself what he was looking for, he had no answers.

And then they were there. A clearing in the woods held Danarius and a small band of others he could only assume were his guards. Lindor, Lak, Tiam, Aldy, Ghan, Phog, and Asama were with him. He hadn't noticed the others joining them on their walk to the clearing, so their sudden appearance took him by surprise.

"Hey there handsome," Asama said, winking at him. Fenris nodded at her, letting his gaze drop quickly. He still wasn't used to the mages light banter.

Lindor stopped, and Fenris halted directly behind him, still refusing to raise his eyes. He heard the familiar voice call across the small clearing and his gut clenched in panic.

"I have come to reclaim my property." Danarius called out, confidence oozing in every word. "I must admit I am pleased to find him in such good shape. I was under the impression the Qunari nearly had him."

Fenris could feel the bile in his stomach churning. A sinking feeling settled over him and he knew then that the outcome here would not be pleasant.

"Him?" Lindor questioned. His face was wrinkled in confusion. "Oh, you mean Fenris." He finished, contempt for the magister slaver dripping in every word. "I'm sorry to say he won't be returning to you. He has found a new path in life."

Danarius laughed loudly. "Truly, a new path? My little wolf? Certainly not. He lives to serve me. He will be returning with me. Certainly we can arrange something. I can reward you. " Arrogance drifted around him in waves.

Fenris hears the shuffling of feet through the leaves on the ground. He looked up just enough to see the Fog Warriors surrounding him. They have seen enough negotiations to know this one isn't going to end with Danarius leaving quietly.

Lindor stares at the magister, never even tempted by the offer, and says his last words, "I can't let that happen!"

Danarius just grins at him. His confidence and arrogance well deserved. He knows his wolf well. "Let's see what he has to say, shall we. Fenris!" Danarius' voice rose to the well-known voice of command he used with all his slaves. "Your master has returned. You WILL OBEY!" He is nearly screaming now.

Fenris looks up, his emerald green eyes betraying his desire to ignore Danarius. He peeks through strands of white hair, his gaze meeting that of his master for the first time since that fateful night he was left on the dock.

Danarius stepped forward one step, raising his wand over his head. Magic crackles through the air as he sets a spell of protection around himself. "Destroy them!", he commands of his slave.

Years of serving step in and Fenris attacks without thought. His huge sword swings around, hitting nearly every fog warrior in one swing. They had all packed tight around him, in preparation of fighting off Danarius. They never thought for a second that the attack would come from Fenris, and they were caught unprepared. If they had thought that then perhaps the day would have turned out differently than it did.

The air was thick with the screams of the injured and dying. A red mist seemed to hang suspended from the blood splattering in the elf's wake. Lindor had stepped back, dragging Asama by the arm with him. Fenris sensed more than saw movement behind and to his right. He spun the sword in an arc, taking the would-be combatant in the neck. Blood splattered onto the front of his armor, dripping on to the already soaked ground. He spun at another movement to his left, and chopped down hard, taking that warrior's arm off. He didn't look long enough to see if he knew who it was.

Fenris noticed a few of the fog warriors had run towards Danarius, and were now deep in combat with the slavers that Danarius had brought along with him. Danarius was enclosed within a bright white shield that prevented anyone from harming him, but also prevented him from attacking. He stepped towards the slavers, but found the fog warriors were just finishing them off. The many years of fighting with the Qunari had left the fog warriors much more capable of surviving the slavers meager attacks. As the fog warriors spun back around towards Danarius, Fenris stepped in from behind and hamstringed them across the back of their legs. Each of them hit the ground, unable to support their weight any longer.

As he stepped forward to finish off the familiar faces he was destroying he heard Danarius call his name. "The leader! You must get the leader!" He demanded. Danarius' shield was gone, his attention no longer able to keep it up.

Fenris spun again, his eyes focusing on the leader of the band that had offered him so much in the last months. He strode towards him, his eyes and face blank and unreadable. Lindor was standing fifteen feet away, a spear in his hand, poised to throw at Danarius. Fenris started to run, wanting to close the gap between them before he could toss that spear. However, just mere feet from getting Lindor within reach of his sword someone grabbed his leg.

Fenris moved his eyes and sword together. His sword point found Asama's chest before his eyes did. He left the sword, reaching into his being to feel the lyrium. He felt the familiar warmness as it awoke. Stepping towards Lindor, he saw the spear leaving Lindors hand, flying towards Danarius. A half-second later Fenris' hand phased through Lindor, tearing directly through his chest. His eyes met the leaders one last time as his life fled away from him, a single tear sliding down Lindor's face.

The effect was immediate. It was like Fenris had been in a battle sleep, and was awakening for the very first time. He looked at the fallen leader before him, Fenris' hand still slick with his blood and he felt the bile in his stomach churn again. Anguish gripped him, making him feel as if his insides were being torn apart. He spun around slowly, Danarius forgotten for the moment, taking in the grisly scene that he had caused. Breathing hard he took in Asama, his sword left forgotten in her chest. Sweet Asama who called him handsome and had spent so much time nursing him back to health. His body began to shake.

Each step brought another fog warrior into view; someone who had eaten beside him, or coached him, or simply said hi to him. Each face a ghost now to forever live in his head, their voices echoing their last songs. The quiet was just as unsettling as the scene before. His heard his steps echoing, his labored breathing as he gulped in air trying to keep the contents of his stomach within his body. He could smell the blood that was dripping off his armor.

Finally his eyes landed on Danarius. The magister lay crumpled on the ground, his shield spell apparently worn off. A spear, Lindor's spear, pinned him to the ground through his left side. His weak pleadings were hardly able to be heard. He was surrounded by the slavers he had brought with him, each of them now a distant memory thanks to the fog warriors.

_What have I done! _Fenris screamed in his head. "What have you made me do?" he screamed at Danarius. It was then that Fenris snapped. He couldn't face the fog warriors anymore; he couldn't look at Asama's face again. H could consider Lindor's single tear. He couldn't escape the screams that were now only in his head. He glared down at his bloody hands in repulsion. He finally lost the battle with his stomach, finding himself on his hands and knees, his body heaving. The world spun around him.

When Fenris finally became aware again he found himself leaning on a rock. His bloodied armor was gone, stripped off and thrown into the jungle somewhere in an attempt to escape the stench of the blood he was soaked in. His body ached as if he had been running forever. His lips were cracked, his mouth dry, and his stomach screaming. He didn't have his sword, or any idea of where he was. He thought Danarius was dead or dying, left lying on the jungle floor. Exhaustion and dehydration set in, the blackness came for him.

()()()()()()

I apologize for the long delay in this story. I hope that I will be able to write much more frequently now. A huge thanks goes out to all that have reviewed the story. Please keep them coming!


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